Andrew Buckley: Lorax
By: Andrew Buckley
I went to go visit my father today. One of those absurdly sunny, clear April days full of green and warmth and lies. In January, when he had gone up to my sister Meg’s place outside Boston until we could get his care sorted out, it hadn’t been bad for a winter day. The whole winter hadn’t been, except for that morning when I had gotten a call at 6 a.m. from the Chatham Police that they had brought Dad home, ...